


Time to look at the stars again

by boundtoramble



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Height Differences, Idiots in Love, Kisses and Cuddles, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1463530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boundtoramble/pseuds/boundtoramble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past few weeks have been rough on them both. They've barely seen each other let alone talked for more than a few minutes at a time and it's slowly been eating them away; they're fighting more often than not, taking their frustration out on each other. Combeferre desperately wants to fix things but doesn't quite know how to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to look at the stars again

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get back into the whole writing shebang after four years or so and this is also my first foray into Les Mis fanfiction so, uh, yeah. It could use some more tweaking but I thought I'd post it anyway. Hope you like it!
> 
> English is not my first language and this little thing hasn't been run through a beta reader so any and all mistakes are mine.

Combeferre pockets his beeper before hanging his coat and slumps on the sofa, exhausted. The week has been nothing short of chaotic and he's barely gotten an eyeful of sleep in God knows how long. He drags a hand across his face and checks his wrist watch. 3:25 in the morning, a good six hour past when he was supposed to meet Courfeyrac. He groans and fishes out his cellphone to type out a profound apology, half-expecting something around a thousand texts and maybe a few voicemails as well but is greeted with nothing. Combeferre hesitates for a second because the two of them have been together long enough that he knows complete silence from Courfeyrac is never a good sign, but starts tapping away anyway.

The past few weeks, and well frankly, months, have been rough on them both. Combeferre's been busy at the hospital because they're running low on staff right now and Courfeyrac and Enjolras have been working on a big project for the firm they're doing their internship at. They've barely seen each other let alone talked for more than a few minutes at a time and it's slowly been eating them away. They're fighting more often than not, taking their frustration out on each other and unnecessarily complicating everything between them they've worked so hard on building and it isn't fair, but they're overworked and so tightly wound it doesn't take much for either of them to snap.

Combeferre bites down on his lip as he reads over his text for the n-th time and promptly deletes all of it, opting on a simple "I'm so sorry. Are you still up?" instead. He's not really waiting for an answer, not right away at least, so he startles when his phone buzzes with an incoming call and Courfeyrac's face and number are displayed on the flashing screen.

∞

Courfeyrac barks a quiet laugh and it sounds hollow and all kinds of wrong to Combeferre. He frowns but doesn't push it because he just really wants to hear Courfeyrac's voice, keep things civil and easy and maybe, just maybe, they'll be alright. He desperately wants to fix things between them and fall back into the easy companionship they've had for years but doesn't quite know how to.

"Do you have to go to work tomorrow, or do you think we could...?" Courfeyrac asks, trailing off mid-sentence and interrupting Combeferre's inner monologue. Combeferre picks on his nails absent-mindedly as he tries to decipher Courfeyrac's words. "No, I've finally got a day-off. Do you maybe want to come ov--"

"Can I come over and --" Courfeyrac begins and they stop to chuckle simultaneously at their overlapping words. Combeferre leans back against his sofa, swapping the phone from his right hand to his left one. "I love you, always have and always will."

The line's silent for a while and Combeferre thinks he can hear Courfeyrac swallowing hard on the other end before answering.

"I love you, too. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Courfeyrac says and Combeferre hums in affirmative, nodding instinctively even though he know Courfeyrac can't see him. Combeferre lingers with his phone for a good while after the call has ended and god, he really needed to hear that. This isn't the first setback they've had and it probably won't be the last but they're both in this for good; the determination in Courfeyrac's voice had told him that much.

∞

Contrary to popular belief, Combeferre isn't that much a morning person. He looks like he's just crawled out of bed when Courfeyrac knocks on his door, turning his spare key in the lock before walking in. His hair is tousled and stuck in weird angles, his T-shirt is inside-out and his mouth tastes like death. He nods towards the kitchen and points at his 0,5 litre mug of tea. Courfeyrac smiles at him but it's a little too strained on the edges and Combeferre wants nothing more than to lean over and smooth it out. Courfeyrac rummages through the cupboard and fills his usual mug with coffee before sitting down opposite from Combeferre.

"You look terrible," Courfeyrac says, a pale reflection of his usual happy self. Combeferre runs a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts, before he can muster up an answer.

"Ah, sleep deprivation, my old nemesis." Courfeyrac smiles again, a little easier this time, but Combeferre can still see the tension in the set of his shoulders. "You don't look much better yourself, Enjolras whipping you too hard?"

"Nah, just... missed you, I guess. Missed this." Courfeyrac waves his hand around vaguely and Combeferre feels a pang of guilt, reaching over to rest his hand over Courfeyrac's. Courfeyrac sighs, manoeuvring their hands so that he can lace their fingers together and squeezes gently. He looks Combeferre in the eye like he's searching for something and when he finds it, quietly adds, "I don't want to lose you."

"It goes the other way round as well," Combeferre says, biting his lip and untangling their fingers and bringing Courfeyrac's palm to his cheek. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You were so busy with your project and I just... didn't want to be a bother, I suppose."

"Didn't want to be a... For fuck's sake, Combeferre, I love you. I know I've said some horrible things to you because I was angry and hurt, but you're never a bother to me." There's newly-lit fire in Courfeyrac's eyes when he pulls his hand away, standing up and motioning for Combeferre to do the same as he walks around the table to his side. Courfeyrac pulls a chair out and climbs on it so that they're standing eye to eye.

"What are you doing?" Combeferre asks, fighting a smile, and Courfeyrac huffs. "Shut up. Not everyone can be as bloody tall as you are."

"Watch yourself, I don't want to take you to hospital because you fell over and cracked your skull pulling a stunt like that. _Again._ "

"That was one time," Courfeyrac mutters under his breath, a smile ghosting on his lips, when he leans over to kiss the corner of Combeferre's mouth, "I hate you so much." Combeferre laughs openly, then, throwing his head back and Courfeyrac just looks at him because he's beautiful like this. Combeferre holds him up and carefully deposits him back on the floor. They giggle like a pair of kids when Combeferre almost trips over his own legs as Courfeyrac nuzzles closer, enjoying the gentle rasp of Combeferre's stubble against his skin.

∞

"We should probably talk." Courfeyrac tries a little later when they're lying together on Combeferre's sofa. Combeferre hums softly and shifts a little in his spot on top of Courfeyrac.

"We should," he agrees but neither dares make a move, Courfeyrac still tentatively tracing the tattoos peeking from underneath Combeferre's shirt and Combeferre playing with Courfeyrac's wild curls. They both know there's a lot of unfinished business here, weeks worth of open wounds and hidden insecurities, but for now they're content to just hold onto each other. There'll be time later on.

"Do you want something to eat first? I think there's milk and eggs that haven't gone bad during the time I've been stuck at work, so I could probably make pancakes." Combeferre asks after another while of silence. Courfeyrac makes a delighted noise and smiles against Combeferre's shoulder as he tries to push him up, "I love your pancakes. Can I help?"

"No, you almost blew up my kitchen the last time. I quite like my kitchen the way it is now, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac shrugs and rolls his eyes at the exaggeration. "I still get to watch you in the kitchen though, right?" he asks seriously. "I like how happy and relaxed you look when you're cooking, it's a good look on you."

∞

They end up talking and catching up late into the night. Combeferre talks about the patients that leave him feeling like he's making a difference while Courfeyrac makes his favourite tea. Courfeyrac talks about his roommate Marius' adventures in the publishing department, Enjolras' general tendency to make a scene and embarrass himself at any given time when Combeferre's not there to hold his hand, and Jehan's new poetry book while Combeferre makes pancakes and whips the cream to go with the berries. Naturally, everything won't be fixed in a snap of fingers but they're getting there.

Enjolras eventually calls to check up on them and to make sure they haven't actually killed each other. Courfeyrac smiles fondly at the scene unfolding in front of him, Combeferre exasperatedly holding his phone at arm's length from his ear when Enjolras gets a little too excited about one thing or another, he doesn't really know.

All he knows is that he's exactly where he wants and needs to be.


End file.
